


Cruel Sister, A Spander Fairy Tale

by Adara_Rose



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst and Humor, Character Bashing, F/M, Humor, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Romance, Sibling Rivalry, Suspected Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:30:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slash retelling of the classical folk ballad "Cruel Sister" (in some places known as “The Bonny Swans”), starring Spike/Xander and Buffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has Buffy bashing. Not your thing, high-tail it out of here.

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, in a place where all fairytales come true, lived a king and his queen and his three children. They were like royal families in fairy tale countries mostly are; good, gentle and well-loved by the people. King Giles was a wise man, whose council was sought from many a man, king, wizard or hero. Queen Joyce was a beautiful woman, and many were the songs sung of gentle Joyce.

The queen had given her husband three children; the eldest daughter had been christened Elizabeth Anne but was known to all as Buffy, although no one could anymore remember why. She was a strong-willed and strong-tempered golden blonde. The middle child was also the only son, Alexander. He had the kind of eyes you wanted to tell all your secrets, and a curious shade of brown they were. The poets called them hazel, his hair they claimed to be black as night. Then there was the youngest sister, Dawn. Dawn was a bonny child, always smiling and singing some merry little tune or other. She had as dark a complexion as her brother, but her eyes were her mother's pale blue. They were a merry family, in a merry little kingdom, but as with all fairy tales this would not last. There was trouble brewing in the kingdom, aye in the royal family itself, and it was only a matter of time before something horrible would happen. For although Alexander's and Dawn's hair were black as night, the heart of their golden sister was darker, still...

 ~*~

 In this little kingdom there of course were knights and heroes a-plenty, and one of these knights was Sir Spike. Spike wasn't his real name, of course, but nobody who knew him well enough to know what  _was_ , was suicidal enough to ever mention that they knew. But dear readers, if you swear not to pass it on, I shall tell you that his name was really William, and he liked to write poetry about roses and sunsets and moonbeams, although that was a  _very_  well-kept secret.

Anyway, Sir Spike was a dashingly handsome man, which is the third rule for all good knights (although they tend not to speak of that where non-knights can hear them). He was blonde, his hair was so pale it almost blended into his skin and his eyes were and intense pale blue, the shade that seems to look straight through you and deem you inferior. He had an arrogant stance and a foul temper, and sharp was his tongue. He was one of the best sword-fighters in King Giles' lands, and he was at twenty-nine still unwed.

That he was still unwed wasn't really a problem to  _him,_  but most dashing knights had annoying mothers that tend to stick their noses where they don't belong and try to run their children's lives. Sir Spike had one of these mothers, Lady Drusilla. Lady Drusilla wasn't  _mad,_ as such, for no rich and well-known person can be mad (most of the people in the kingdom were in complete agreement that Lady Drusilla was completely barmy, though, but they kept it to themselves).

Drusilla had been hassling her son to marry for almost a year to no avail, when she had the wonderful idea to send him to King Giles' castle to try his luck there, the place was always swarming with young ladies seeking to catch the eye of gentle Alexander, and young men seeking the heart and hand of one of the princesses. Spike wasn't at all into the idea, but no man who likes his head where it is and all his parts in working order ever protests when an enchantress tells him to do something, so off he went to the castle.

Cursing all the way.

 ~*~

Sir Spike arrived at King Giles' castle in a foul mood, which wasn't unusual for him. It had rained most of the day, so he was drenched to the bone; his horse had slipped in the mud and injured its hind leg, forcing him to lead the animal for three hours through the rain, making a four-hour journey take a whole day. Then there was the fact that he'd accidentally forgotten to take his best sword with him – which of course didn't mean that he was unarmed – and it was so  _annoying_  everything.

Of course Queen Joyce greeted her guest with open arms, a big glass of brandy and a hot bath. In that order, since Queen Joyce was a firm believer in Being Comfortable. Never let it be said that a guest of hers ran out of fluffy pillows, warm blankets, beverages of choice and company (she had made a very good deal with the local brothel, although the king wasn't aware of it). Of course, she also made sure that there were hunts, mock-battles, banquets, parties, chess games, poetry readings, and everything else she could think of to keep her guest happy.

On the fourth day after Sir Spike had arrived at the castle he met the royal children.

As everybody knows, in fairy tale kingdoms Love At First Sight happens all the time, and it's the True and Honest kind that lasts a life time (if only the rest of us were that lucky) so that Sir Spike fell desperately in love five seconds after being introduced to Queen Joyce's beloved children, was no surprise to anyone. It was right after "And this is-" that Sir Spike found himself hook line and sinker, head over heels in love with the beautiful prince. And, judging by the adoration in the hazel eyes gazing back at him, his feelings were very much returned.

Sir Spike leered at the lovely prince, for he was a Man Of The World and had a few ideas of what he liked to do with that mouth, and Prince Alexander was blushing in a very comely way as all gentle virgins do. He felt a bit like Little Red Riding Hood when meeting The Big Bad Wolf in that story he found in the book his father didn't want him or his sisters to read… urges he never knew existed were rearing their heads inside of him and butterflies swarmed in his stomach.

So wrapped up in each other were they, prince and knight, that neither of them paid any attention to the princess. They would both come to deeply regret it, later…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is romance and poetry. And things take a slightly sinister turn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Helen, with Love.

"Oh, he is so handsome!" Prince Alexander exclaimed for the third time, making Willow, the court magician, laugh at him.  
"Someone is in love!" she exclaimed in a sing-song voice and hugged her dear friend. Her wife, a healer named Tara, smiled affectionately at the both of them and poured more tea.  
"Oh, Willow, what do I do?" Xander asked, fretting. "Shall I simply tell him? But what if he does not love me? Oh I cannot bear it, I will die – I shall simply die if he does not love me!"  
"Now, Xan, do not be such a silly goose. Of course he loves you!" Willow exclaimed and wiped away the tears that fell unbidden from the prince's eyes. "How can he not? You are such a wonderful person!"  
Tara found it best to distract the prince from his worries, and did so. She had a trick up her sleeve that always worked, on both prince and magician. She picked up a small plate and offered it to them.  
"Another slice of gingerbread?"

~*~

Sir Spike was in a desperate, anxious state. The rooms Queen Joyce had so generously given him were a complete mess of clothes, weapons, pieces of armor and many, many, many pieces of parchment.  
"Enchanting! Why are there never any good rhymes for enchanting!" he ranted. "I cannot use 'bewitching', it sounds like I am under a spell-" he stopped mid-rant. "A spell! Aye! Bewitched I am, entranced and ensnared!" he grabbed the nearest quill and scribbled frantically on a piece of parchment.  
So lost was the knight in his attempt to write the perfect love poem, he did not hear his door open. And he most definitely did not notice Princess Buffy entering the room.  
"I need another three syllables on the fourth line or it won't flow properly…" he muttered around the quill he was chewing on.  
The princess sashayed over to where he stood, curious to see what he was writing about her. He could not possibly be writing about anyone else, since the whole kingdom knew she was the fairest in the land. Why, she broke hearts simply by waking up in the morning! (That much was true, although not quite in the way she meant.) She was just about to announce her presence, when Spike cheerfully exclaimed:  
"I will change 'sable hair' to 'curls of deepest night!' It is a bit silly, true, but it flows much better!" Buffy froze, her mouth half-opened. Sable? You could say many things about her, but she was a natural blond. Her eyes narrowed. Dawn had sable hair. That little witch! Everybody knew that *she* was the loveliest, how dared her bratty little sister snag a gorgeous knight right under her nose? She was going to talk to that girl. Now! She turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.  
Spike looked up in confusion. "Did someone just slam a door?" he asked the thin air, but received no reply since air cannot speak. He shrugged. "I must be imagining things."  
What was important, though, was the poem he was planning on leaving on prince Alexander's pillow (he was much too shy to give it to the boy himself).

~*~

It is not true that princess Dawn fainted when her sister ripped her door wide open and stormed into her room with a murderous look on her face, but she did drop her crystal hairbrush and whimpered when it shattered.  
"Buffy!" she exclaimed woefully. "I liked that brush!"  
"Never mind the brush!" Buffy shrieked and proceeded with thoroughly raving at her sister about men in general and a certain knight in particular, while Dawn desperately tried to get a word in edgewise to explain that she had no interest in Sir Spike whatsoever and that if Buffy wanted him she would certainly not try to get in her way.  
"Besides!" Dawn hurriedly said when Buffy paused to breathe. "I would never be so cruel to Andy!" Buffy stared at her in total confusion.  
"To who?"  
"Andy. Andrew, you know, father's head librarian? Him and I are, um, you know." Dawn turned a very becoming shade of red.  
"A librarian?" Buffy sneered in disgust. "What worth is a simple librarian when you can marry a knight?" Dawn straightened herself up and looked unusually regal. And quite angry.  
"I will have you know, sister, that not all women in this world judge a man by his title! My Andrew is a good man with a gentle soul, and I shall marry him as soon as I come of age!"  
"As if he would wait for you for two years." Buffy sneered.  
"That such a thing would come out of your mouth, only shows how little you know about love, Buffy. Andrew loves me, I love him, and he will ask father for my hand on my sixteenth birthday, so there!" Buffy's brain was reeling with the information. But if it was not her sister that was Spike's one true love, who was?  
"Well" Dawn replied and Buffy realized that she had voiced the question. "I am not the only one in this family with sable hair, now am I? Now OUT, I have to get dressed for dinner and I promised to meet Andrew in the library." Buffy left her sister's room, a distracted look on her face. Not Dawn. The poem was not meant for Dawn.  
Dawn kneeled on the floor and carefully gathered up the pieces of the brush.  
"Am I imagining things" she said, "or is Buffy acting quite irrationally these days?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, SO sorry I'm late! My thesis refused to let me write anything at all, let alone fanfic.

Dawn had not been too far of her mark; her sister  _had_  been acting rather irrationally as of late. Not that the lovely Buffy had a history of rationality; she was a highly emotional young woman, and unfortunately she was also rather vain and proud. As the eldest child of the King of Sunnydale, she knew she would inherit the largest part of his Kingdom, and she had never quite been unable to resist reminding her younger siblings of this.

But then again, she had always had a terrible taste in men. First there was prince Angelus, the gorgeous knight, who had promised her marriage and all the riches her little heart could possibly want… and then eloped with her shield maiden, Faith. The last she had heard from them, Queen Faith was carrying their third son. After him came the charming rogue, Parker, who had thoroughly enjoyed all the hospitalities of the castle – especially the pretty maids and Queen Joyce's little agreement with the local brothel. No one was quite sure what it was the princess had seen the evening she had decided to visit her fiancée without calling ahead, but everyone agreed that she had shrieked loud enough to shatter glass and Parker had left the very next day, never to be seen again. He had been succeeded by Riley, captain of the guards, who had broken off his engagement with the lovely princess after having gotten himself roaring drunk and into bed with his comrade-in-arms, a rather handsome chap named Graham. The morning after, they had had a little reprise of the previous night's events, and Riley had decided that he enjoyed that much more than chaste, uninspiring kisses with the princess, and promptly asked Graham to marry him. Buffy had been furious for weeks. But the handsome sir Spike was not like either of these men. He was cultured, and handsome, and he wrote poetry. True, it was currently for her useless brother, but that could be changed. She was much prettier than he was.

The problem with changing Sir Spike's mind was finding him, which was proving rather difficult on the morning this part of the story takes place. She had searched the entire castle, and was now on her way to the gardens. Surely he must be somewhere; she had seen a stable boy with his horse earlier, so he had not left the castle. Unless he took a coach, of course, but she did not find that very likely, considering the fact that the knight had been a most unbecoming shade of green during the entire outing they'd gone on a few days ago. He was terribly motion sick unless he was riding.

She did actually find him in the garden, although he was not alone. He was sitting under a willow tree, surrounded by several people; her siblings, the court magician, and the court magician's wife. Several guards were hanging around trying to look like they weren't watching over the royal children to make sure the knight did not do anything, and most of them were failing miserably. They were simply too official-looking. She swept over as if she was walking on a catwalk (well she would have if she had known what a catwalk was), and made sure to place herself in such a manner that the knight would not be able to avoid to look at her whenever he tore his gaze from her brother, who was currently telling him something dull about a book he had read (she never bothered with books). Buffy marveled at Sir Spike's politeness; he seemed to be completely entranced by Xander.

~*~

Spike was gazing at the lovely prince in complete adoration. Not only a pretty face, but a quick wit and a brilliant mind, too! Oh, what a marvelous young man he was! He simply  _had_  to gather his courage and ask the sweet boy to wed him; it would make him the happiest man in the world! So wrapped up in his Love was he, that he did not notice the youngest princess covering her mouth with her hand to stifle her giggles, the magician and healer gaze into each other's eyes dreamily – or the eldest princess' face turning dark, like the sky just before the storm. And the storm would come. Soon. In fact, it was already brewing…

~*~

Now, as we all know, fairy-tale kingdoms tend to be idyllic, and so was the Kingdom of Sunnydale. And since Sir Spike enjoyed horse-riding, he took the young prince out on a little trip into the beautiful countryside. He brought a lunch basket with him and did his best not to gawk too much at the beautiful youth by his side.

The young prince was quite nervous. He didn't have much experience with horses, since his parents were paranoid people that had heard too many stories about ill-fated princes and princesses that got stung by needles and kidnapped by giants and locked in towers and such things they very rarely let their children out of the castle, and if they ever did it was only as far as the castle gardens with at least six guards. He had always wanted to see what life was like outside the castle, but now that he actually had a chance to see it he only had eyes for the handsome knight riding beside him. Sir Spike's hair shone in the sunlight like spun gold, his eyes were the bluest the young prince had ever seen, and he had the kind of mouth that made the young Prince want to recite poetry.

After about an hour's riding they found a lovely spot just by a merry river, and stopped for lunch. Sir Spike found himself thinking that watching a pretty young boy eating a chicken sandwich be one of the most erotic things he had ever seen, and once again thanked the heavens for having the good sense to wear a chain-mail tunic, since it very efficiently covered his reaction to anything and everything the young prince did. They shared a bottle of wine, and the drink made young Alexander feel a little daring. He shyly moved a little closer to the knight, shortening the distance between them to a mere two feet. It was dreadfully scandalous, but luckily no one was there to scold him on his inappropriate behavior.

"I have never seen you in the castle before" Alexander finally said, realizing that it was expected of him to make conversation. "You must be very busy." Sir Spike squirmed slightly from embarrassment. In reality, he wasn't very fond of castles and rather spent his days hunting and drinking and reading romance novels and writing poetry, but he couldn't tell the boy that.

"I am, in fact. I have lands to run and people to take care off." He said instead. This was true, in a way. He did have some very nice lands, but in reality he left most of the actually running to his manservant, Wesley.

They fell silent, looking at each other while doing their best not to act like they were looking.

"Your majesty…" Spike began. He had to kiss that mouth. And if he didn't do it now, he'd never gather the courage to do so.

"Please, call me Xander." The young prince blushed crimson at his own daring.

"Xander" Spike nervously licked his lips. "Do tell me… are you… promised?" he was amazed that he managed to speak through the lump in his throat, consisting of his wildly beating heart. He held his breath as he waited for the answer that would either save or crush him… 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... forgot to publish the rest of this fic.  
> I don't even have an excuse.  
> Sorry.

_"Xander" Spike nervously licked his lips. "Do tell me… are you… promised?" he was amazed that he managed to speak through the lump in his throat, consisting of his wildly beating heart. He held his breath as he waited for the answer that would either save or crush him…_

"Promised? As in, to be wedded? No, father says his children should marry for love."

And… is there anyone, whom you love?" The prince shyly gazed at the knight, and then quickly looked away before answering.

"Yes, sir. There is." Spike felt his heart plummet down to his feet and twist his intestines along the way. There already was someone who had stolen away the heart of his one true love. Oh, fate was a cruel mistress, indeed! He put on a brave face.

Ah, the hearts of the young. Do tell me, is she lovely?" the prince blushed in the comely way that had the knight completely besotted.

"It is a he, sir. And yes, he is very handsome. His eyes are blue like the endless sky, his hair spun gold." Spike's mind worked feverishly, trying to realize who this man could be. Then he remembered the Captain of the Guards, a tall, strong, rather handsome fellow by the name of Riley.

"And is your father positive to you… marrying below your station?" Xander's heart started to beat faster. Was his knight proposing to him? Oh, how wonderful!

"He did not mind when Dawn went to the summer fair with the miller's son, so why should he be adverse to any man I chose to love? He only wants me to be happy, sire."

"Well, I suppose you could do worse than a guard captain." Spike said, not quite managing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Xander stared at him in confusion.

"Guard Captain?" he questioned. "What guard captain?"

"That bloke, what's his name, Riley. Handsome fellow, I'll give you that."

"Sir Riley?" Xander giggled. "Sir Riley got married last year! He is not the one who holds my heart." Spike stared at the boy.

"Then who?" he asked, an almost desperate look on his face. "Tell me, you must tell me, if I have a chance in the quest for your heart. If it is already taken, then I beg of you, tell me so now." Xander met his gaze.

"Aye, my heart is taken. There is no quest for it. It is already owned. By you." Spike swallowed hard.

"My beautiful prince" he finally managed to say. "My beautiful, beautiful prince." Then he leaned forward and did what he had fantasized about since the first time he saw the lovely prince.

He kissed that luscious mouth.

~*~

The look on Princess Buffy's face when she returned to the castle in the early evening was the kind that would scare even the bravest child into a desperate fit of tears, so it was quite lucky that she did not meet anybody.

She was feeling absolutely murderous; never in her life had she been angrier, never had she hated anyone more. Not that bitch Faith, who stole her first love. Not Parker, the whoremonger, who couldn't keep his clothes on whenever there were a woman around. Well, except her of course, it was obvious that she was much better than those women. Then there was Riley, whom she had thought would spend the rest of his life waiting on her hand and foot, obeying her every whim. And he had, until he had decided that he would rather couple like a wanton animal with one of his own soldiers than be her one true love. And that had been the end of that engagement. No, she may hate them all, but not as much as she hated her useless, disgusting, worthless little brother. What did that little bitch have that she didn't? (…well, for starters, he had a sweet disposition and was always nice and friendly to everyone…)

She grabbed the nearest item and threw it on the nearest piece of furniture, (read: a book and a chair) but it did not have the desired effect – she missed by several inches. Still, she got her point across and it made her feel a tiny bit better. She threw herself into another chair, pouting fiercely. There _had_ to be something she could do; that little _slut_ would not get the better of her!

  
Not only had he charmed that knight like some wile… _tempter_ , but that kiss! Oh, she had seen that kiss! The kind of kiss you give your one true love – it was _disgusting_ ! It was so unfair! It was _she_ who was supposed to be Sir Spike’s one true love. True, he wasn’t exactly her type – too small, for starters. And he wasn’t as bulky as she would have wanted. But he was a handsome knight, and she was a beautiful princess; therefore they were meant for each other. But that idiotic knight was so wrapped up in her brother, he could not see that. She had to make him see; somehow, she _had_ to make him see. And she would start by clearing his vision – by getting rid of the little whore that had blinded him to her radiance.


	5. Chapter 5

Prince Alexander was as happy as could be; as of three hours he and his beloved knight were engaged, and everyone he saw congratulated him (and made lewd comments which made him blush something awful). He was just on his way down the stairs, since it was a beautiful day and he wanted to spend it outside, watching his love practice with the soldiers. Sir Spike was so handsome in his leathers, with sweat on his brow, the sword swishing through the air as he attacked and parried. Or perhaps swish was a bad choice of a word, he mused. it was more like the sword _danced_ when Spike was training. Yes, it danced. And so did its owner; like he was displaying himself for those who watched, not fighting. It was beautiful, and he was eager to see it again. Something happened inside him when he saw his Love practice, although he was not sure what that was. It felt like the butterflies he had felt when they kissed for the first time, but it was centered lower in his body, and it felt much more intense. He must remember to ask father about it.

Halfway down the stairs, he met one of the guards, and of course recognized him immediately.he knew everyone in the castle, and most of the people in the city, by name, and was always very polite whenever he met them.

“Good day Graham, I trust you are well.” He said, bowing his head slightly.

“Very well, your majesty, thank you. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.” Xander blushed, then turned crimson as the guard went on: “I am sure you are looking forward to the wedding night, you know what they say about small men – all that pent up energy.” The he laughed.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” Xander squeaked, then hurriedly escaped down the rest of the stairs towards the main doors, Graham’s laughter ringing in his ears.

He had just made it to the door when his sister, Buffy, caught up with him. He hoped she would not tease him; he had had quite enough of that for the day. But she smiled and put her hand on his arm.

“Xan” she said, “I know I haven’t been very kind to you lately, and I am sorry. I was hoping we could go for a stroll, and talk? We really need to talk, don’t you think?” he smiled back at her, greatly relieved. They had been at odds lately, although he had no idea why; a private conversation might be just what they needed. And hopefully Spike would not be too disappointed about him not being there to watch practice, just this once.

“I would love to. How about we walk down by the river, at the far reach of the palace grounds? It is so lovely there.” Buffy tucked her arm under his.

“What a lovely idea, dear brother. The river will be… perfect.”

~*~

Two hours had passed, and Spike was just returning to the castle after sword practice. He was feeling rather disappointed; he had made his hair up nice, knowing his little darling would come and watch, and the boy had not even showed! They would have Words about that. Strong words. He smiled ruefully. Who was he fooling? One soulful look from those enormous dark eyes, and he would forget why he was so cross and take the boy into his arms, covering his sweet face with kisses. He could hardly wait – you weren’t a proper couple until you’d had your first argument!

“Help!” a woman’s scream tore through the knight’s thoughts, making him turn around so fast he nearly lost his footing. “Somebody, help!”

Spike sprinted towards the cry, sword still in hand. There was a damsel in distress – he had to save her, that was his knightly duty! Xander would understand.

~*~ 

The scream sir Spike had heard had reached far, and several people came running towards it. They were met by a hysterical princess. A princess covered in mud, with a torn dress, and messy hair. She was completely from her senses; screaming and crying and making very little sense to anyone.

“Please! Please help, my brother! The river! He fell – I couldn’t reach him! Help me, somebody! My brother!” she wailed, staring at them with wild eyes. For a few seconds, no one moved; struck by horror at what she had said, and the implications. The river was dangerous, running at a speed too great for even the greatest swimmer. If the prince had fallen in…

Then suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, they exploded into activity. A maid ran towards the castle to alert the King and Queen, and the others began searching the riverbank. First among these desperate searchers, was a golden blond knight, sword still desperately clutched in one hand, as if holding on to hope. Perhaps he was. His little darling had confessed to him, only the day before, that he did not know how to swim. They had to find him. Fast.

~*~

But they did not find him, though they searched for many hours. Princess  Buffy had to be taken away less than half an hour into the search and given a sedative by Tara, who then put her to bed. The poor girl was hysterical, screaming that they had to find him, and being of no use to anyone. Now she slept, while the rest of the castle searched for her brother. They called his name, they dragged nets through the waters, Willow scryed for him with her crystal ball. But to no avail. The prince was nowhere to be found.

When the day turned into night, they were all exhausted, muddy and heart-sore. In despair, the King called the search to a halt, and announced that his darling son was drowned. His queen and youngest daughter clung to each other, weeping desperately. Their hearts would not believe what was undeniable; prince Alexander was dead. Gone. Lost forever. All those that had gathered to search, wept bitterly as they started the trek back to the castle.

Alone on the river bank, sword still in hand, covered in mud, stood Sir Spike, still as a statue. He alone shed no tears, as he gazed at the dark waters that had taken his love. His sorrow was too great for weeping, his pain went much too deep. His love was lost, all his dreams had shattered. A choked cry made it’s way past his lips.

“…Xan…”


	6. Chapter 6

Days passed, and the castle fell into both despair and disrepair. No one cared anymore, not since the death of their beloved prince. The coffin they laid to rest under the stone carrying his name was empty, but that did not soothe anyone, instead it only deepened the grief. They had never found the boy’s remains, and it plagued them all that they would never get to lay him to rest. But the one who suffered the most was Spike; he had turned into a wraith, haunting the castle. He wandered aimlessly, mute with sorrow, the only noise coming from his frozen lips an occasional anguished “…Xan…”. The only one who seemed able to reach him and give him comfort in his grief was Buffy, and they were often seen together. It came as no surprise to anyone when they announced their engagement. But it was no joyful occasion; Xander’s ghost, and his tragic death, still hung over them.

 

Late one night into the dark, dreary halls of Sunnydale castle, came a strange man, bringing with him a cloaked companion and a beautiful harp.

”King and Queen, Princesses and Court” he said. ”I bring with me an instrument of such wonder, you have never before seen. For this is a magic harp, and a voice of it’s own it has. A gruesome tale it tells, and I shall let it sing to you in hopes of bringing a murderer into the light.”

King Giles slowly raised his weary head and stared in shock at the stranger.

 _"Ethan?”_ he whispered, his voice almost hopeful. The man bowed deeply.

“Your majesty. I see that the years have been good to you. Three beautiful children, I heard your queen gave you.”

“Yes, three children. Two gentle daughters and a doe-eyed son, but the fates have been cruel and stolen our beloved Alexander from us.” The queen buried her face in her handkerchief, weeping quietly. “But what of you, my dearest friend? When you did not return, I feared-” he trailed off, not sure how to word the thoughts and fears that had plagued him when his friend, dearest to his heart, did not return from the war, so many years ago…

“But I did return, your Majesty. Alas, I returned too late, only to find that you had left for your honeymoon. I swore that day to never make a promise, and never accept a vow. For false are the words of men.”

The King flinched at the pain in the harp maker’s voice; it made his heart ache, and he longed to hold his dear friend close and soothe him. But it was he himself that had caused the sorrow, and therefore he stayed on his throne. But he could not escape the accusing gaze of the man, who continued:

“Your Majesty. I come before you bringing this instrument, so please, let it sing.”

“It is a beautiful harp” said the queen in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence. She had stopped weeping and was now admiring the instrument. “May I ask what wood you carved it from?”

“No wood, your majesty, was used in the making of this harp. It is made from blood and bone and hair.” The royal couple and their daughters, and most of the court, stared at him in a mix of horror and confusion, but it was Sir Spike that finally spoke in a voice that had not been used for many days.

“Blood and bone and hair?” he exclaimed, his hoarse voice quivering with horror.

“Aye, good sir.” The harp maker nodded as if this was something quite normal to make an instrument from. “You see, I happened one day a few weeks ago upon a river bank, and as I sat down on a rock to rest I noticed the body of a lovely young man on the shore. His eyes were the most curious shade of hazel, but alas, the marks – resembling hands – around his neck disfigured him. Apart from the marks, he was an altogether lovely creature, and I felt it was a shame to let such a beautiful body go to waste.” And he told the court how he had broken the dead man’s ribcage open and with his ribs built the harp. How he had cut the dark curls and woven strings from them. How he had taken the slim fingers and boiled them, and used the finger bones to make the screws. There were several weeping in the hall when he finished his tale. The king, who suspected the identity of the boy by the river, spoke in a trembling voice:

“And what did you do then, Ethan? What did you do, then, with my only son’s remains?” Sir Spike pressed his fist to his mouth, but could not keep in a keening wail. His little love desecrated, his sweet body turned into…into an _instrument_ , it was simply too much to bear.

“I burned them, good sir. I had no further use for them.” The harp maker shrugged. “But it was its song I came for.” and he placed the beautiful harp in the middle of the room, where all could see. Then he gently struck one of the strings, and the sweet chime echoed throughout the silence. The harp played a scale, and then a voice dearly missed, dearly loved, echoed throughout the king’s hall. Prince Alexander’s voice.

 

_Mother and father, queen and king,_

_Farewell to you, farewell I sing._

_Farewell my William, sweet and true_

_Farewell, my dearest Dawn, to you._

_But woe befall Elizabeth Anne_

_Who murdered me to steal my man._

 

The harp sang its gruesome song twice, and then played again its scale. Then it fell silent. The silence that spread throughout the King’s hall was horrified, and all feared to break it. The silence was shattered, however, when princess Buffy, fury and hatred written on her pretty face, flew up from her chair, rushed over and pushed the harp onto the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Be silent!” She screamed, trampling it under her feet, damaging the pieces further. “Be silent, you worthless whore! He is mine, _mine_ ,  like he should always have been! And you, you are nothing! BE SILENT!”

 

Dawn, the youngest princess, slowly rose from her chair, her face white with pain and anger.

“And so” she whispered, her voice barely audible. But in the horrified silence of the hall, it rang out like the loudest of cries. “And so, _dear sister,_ you have murdered our brother for the second time.”


	7. Chapter 7

The silence that had already been horrified and frozen, froze a little further. 

“Buffy” Joyce whispered, her eyes swimming with tears. “Why? _Why?_ He was your brother.” 

Buffy turned on her, eyes wild. 

“The useless little bitch. I told him. All he had to do was give me what I wanted and I’d help him up. But he wouldn’t. Silly little fool, he couldn’t swim. I said I’d stand there and watch him drown if he didn’t do what I said. And he wouldn’t. and then he disappeared.” She laughed madly. “He disappeared beneath the surface, and I stood there, and I watched. If he had done something for me for once he wouldn’t be dead! But he was so selfish!” 

Sir Spike tried desperately to get to his feet, but his legs shook so hard he could barely stand. 

“What” he choked out,”what was it you wanted, that was so important my sweet love had to die?” Buffy’s face twisted with scorn. 

“You, of course. You useless idiot. What use did a stupid prince have for a handsome knight?” Her question echoed in the horrified silence, which dragged on for several seconds. Then the King spoke. 

“Take her away” he ordered harshly. “I cannot stand to look at her.” Two guards grabbed the princess and started dragging her towards the exit, paying no heed to her outraged screams.

Dawn fled to her mother’s arms, and they both wept. Their sobs were the only sound heard in the great hall, where all present stood as frozen. That, and in the distance, the continuous shrieks of a princess, they all now saw as what she was. Cruel, spiteful, and undeniably mad. 

Several minutes passed in this horrified stillness, then the harp maker once again spoke. 

“There is more to my tale” he began. “the truth, this time…”

 

* * *

 

 

> _ The tale the Harp-maker told: _
> 
> _ He had travelled for many days, and was very tired, when he reached the Kingdom of Sunnydale. He had never been there before, but he remembered the description of the Kingdom, and the River, that Giles had given him many years ago when he was still a prince. Back when he had been His, when they had been free to love each other. But then his own land had gone to war, and he had been drafted. He had fought, as much for the boy waiting for him back home as for his country, but upon his return he found that his Love had married a beautiful noblewoman. Sir Ethan, for he was a knight by then, had felt his heart shatter. He had turned in his sword, sold his armor, and left to become a vagabond, getting by in whatever way he could. He had wanted to forget, but it had not worked. Now he was on his way to see his old lover, he did not quite know why. But something drew him to Sunnydale.  _
> 
> _ But it was late, and he was very tired, and he had just found the river. He made camp. But as he was going down to the riverbank to fill a bucket with water to keep by the fire in case it got out of control, he found something. A body. At first he froze, but then his old training kicked in and he rushed forward to see if there was any way he could help the poor youth. He turned the boy over and marvelled at his beauty. Then he saw the marks around the boy’s neck, and the horrifying stillness. For a few seconds, he thought the boy was dead. He pressed his ear to the boy’s chest, listening intently for a heartbeat. He found one, although it was very weak. But it was there; the boy was still alive. He managed to carry (alright, drag) the boy back to his camp, and there he nursed him back to health.  _
> 
> _ The boy lay delirious for many days, speaking in riddles, crying at times. But when asked, he could not say who he was or where he had come from. Ethan was worried, but figured that there was a good reason for why the boy would not tell him who he was.  _
> 
> _ Then one day, the news of the eldest princess’ engagement came to the harp-maker as he went into the village for supplies, and when he told his young charge about it after dinner that night, the boy started weeping. Hearing of the handsome knight that was to marry princess Buffy, his memory returned and he told the older man everything.  _
> 
> _He told of how much in love he and the knight had been, and of how happy they were. Of their engagement, and how he had thought that his sister wished to congratulate him and give him some advice on how to act toward his Love, when he had agreed to walk alone with her along the river. But she had behaved oddly; been quiet and watchful, continuously looking toward the castle. Then, when they got far enough away so as not to be seen by anyone, she had turned on him like an animal. She had told him that he did not deserve the knight, that she should be the one marrying him, and that he should relinquish his claims immediately. He had refused of course, since he loved Spike with all his heart and could not imagine giving him to his older sister._
> 
> _ Then she had hit him. Not once, not twice, but three times she had hit him, and he had lost his footing and fallen into the river. He had begged her to help him up, but she had refused to do so, demanding once again that he give her his Love. When he said that he would rather die, then she said so be it, and then she just stood there as the waters dragged him down and he knew no more until he woke on the riverbank as Ethan was wrapping him in a warm blanket.  _
> 
> _ And now he did not know what to do. His Love thought him dead, they all did, and she was going to marry him. He wept, devastated, and Ethan wished he could help. Surely, there must be something he could do… _


	8. Chapter 8

“…and so, your good majesties, I took a harp I had made, and I enchanted it to sing the tune you all heard. Dear Alexander sang it for me several times so that the harp could record it, and then I brought it here to bring the would-be murderess to justice. I feared that if I were simply to present the dear prince to you, you would not believe his tale, thinking him to have hit his head or some such when falling into the river. Therefore there must be some way to draw her to admit her crime, without endangering the prince. And I succeeded.” He looked pleased. 

“Then where is he!” Spike demanded. He had to see his love, to hold him, to see for himself that the boy was alive! The harp-maker’s companion stepped forward from where he had hidden in the back of the room. He pulled back the hood, and smiled at his knight. 

“I am right here, beloved.” He said, or at least he tried, for Spike was beside him in an instant, wrapping him in his arms and kissing him passionately. The King watched them, his joy at having his darling son back with him almost, but not quite, winning over his sorrow at seeing his old friend, his own dear love, again after all these years – and being unable to do anything about it. The queen laid her hand on her husband’s arm, and he turned to her.

 

* * *

 

 

“Go to him” she whispered, her eyes understanding. “I always knew I would not get to keep you. Go to him.” Then she went to embrace her son. The king smiled at her; she was a remarkable woman, his dear wife. That was why he had married her; she had never complained about being second in his heart. She had never even attempted to take Ethan’s place. And now, she was setting him free. But then he saw that Ethan had already turned to leave, thinking his duty completed. 

“Wait!” He cried, rushing after him. “Please, wait.” 

“Why should I wait? There is nothing here for me.” The other man looked sad, and  a little lost, and suddenly very old. Giles put his arms around him, the same gesture the young knight had done with his dear son. 

“I am here.” He said. “at long last.” Then he kissed him, and the love that had always been there shone almost as brightly as the love of prince Alexander and Sir Spike, who were still very much joined at the lip. 

Queen Joyce wrapped her arms around her dark-haired daughter, smiling. Now, her world was bright again. Everything was as it was supposed to be. Well, almost. Buffy would still need to be dealt with, but she would worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, she would be joyful at the return of her son, and the reunion of her husband and his one true love. And, considering the way Dawn was looking at the young scribe shyly gazing back at her, she would soon have another wedding to plan. 

And they all would live, and love, happily ever after. (well, except Buffy, but nobody really liked her anyway.) 


End file.
